"My good woman—"
"Trust me, I ain't that good and I got four ex-husbands to attest to it."
Ali's temper simmered. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner. I can assure you I am not accustomed to such disrespect."
"Well then, maybe it's about time you got accustomed to it."
Frustrated, Ali closed his eyes and inhaled a slow, deep breath. He would not be beaten by this…woman. He had to see Faith.
He glanced at the woman who was almost as wide as the doorway. Intimidation hadn't worked; he certainly hoped charm would. He flashed her a brilliant smile, hoping she'd take pity on him.
"Martha, please, it is imperative that I see Ms. Martin." He was playing bob and weave with a woman the size of a Sherman tank. It was utterly outrageous, and beneath him to be reduced to such behavior. "It really is a matter of the utmost urgency. And I am a client," he reminded her.
"A client?" Martha narrowed her gaze on him. "If you were a client, I'd know about you, and I've never heard of you."
"El-Etra Investments."
She cocked her gray head, narrowing her gaze on him suspiciously. "Yeah, what about 'em?"
"I am the owner."
"You are not." She searched her memory. "Kadid something or other is the owner."
Ali bit back a smile. "On the contrary, Kadid is my assistant. He is the one who made all the arrangements to hire Ms. Martin, but I can assure you, I am indeed the owner."
Martha scowled at him. "You got a card or something on you?"
"Or something." Ali reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an elegant business card with his name, family crest and royal seal etched in gold.
"Guess anyone who can afford to have them fancy business cards printed up must be telling the truth." Martha glanced at Faith over her shoulder. "Okay, you got five minutes, and not a minute more. Ms. Martin's busy."
"As am I," he countered in annoyance. He had been up most of the night, worried about what he'd said to Faith, worried that perhaps she'd misinterpreted what he'd said, and more importantly, worried that he'd hurt her.
The look in her eyes last night, the crushing sadness when he'd admitted he could not love her had haunted him long into the night.
He'd hurt her, he realized now, and he never intended to, never meant for her to take his comments personally. But from the look on her face when she quietly got into her car and drove away, he knew she had.
Miserable, he'd vowed somehow to make it right this morning.
But when he'd arrived at the office this morning he'd found some young, pimply-faced…
child
working on his system. First he had panicked, then became enraged. He could not allow Faith to simply walk out of his life. Not like this.
"Thank you, Martha," he said with a relieved sigh as she stepped out of the doorway to let him pass. "I am grateful." With an elegant bow, he lifted her hand and kissed it.
"Quit your bowing," Martha said a scowl. "And don't be slobbering all over me. I got work to do." With an annoyed humph, she marched toward her own desk.
Faith didn't even bother to glance up when Ali walked in. She knew he was there. The air had changed; it had become charged with his potent male energy. "What do you want? I'm busy." Her tone was cold, clipped and all business.
"What do I want?" His voice shook with outrage. "I want to know why you are here in this office, instead of mine."
She continued working on the spreadsheet. "Someone is at your office. One of my best consultants. Peter is more than competent to complete the job." Now she did glance up at him for a brief moment. Her gaze was deliberately cold. "On time as we agreed. You have nothing to worry about."
"On the contrary, Faith. I have plenty to worry about, as do you."
Now her head came up and she glared at him, trying not to notice how tired he looked this morning. "What are you talking about?"
Trying to control himself, Ali planted his hands on her desk. "Listen to me very carefully, Faith. For whatever reason you decided not to return to my offices this morning. But my contract is with
you.
I agreed to hire you, personally because I was told
you
were the best. If I wanted a subordinate, I would have hired him. I have no intention of putting my business in the hands of someone who is not yet even old enough to vote."
"You're being ridiculous. Peter is twenty-six, graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard, and has an MS from Yale. He's one of the best computer consultants in the country."
"But he is not you, is he?"
"It doesn't matter, you don't need me. Peter can do the job."
"No, he cannot," Ali retorted just as firmly. "It is still my office, still my decision whom I allow into it. I have some highly classified financial information on that system, information about very wealthy individuals around the world. You certainly cannot expect me to entrust that kind of information to just anyone."
"You're being ridiculous, Ali."
"Perhaps. But that's my prerogative. I
am
the client, and the one paying the bills. And I believe you have a saying in America, 'the client is always right'?"
"The customer's always right," she corrected. Faith sighed. She knew they weren't really arguing about Peter's credentials or the security of his firm, but something far more personal.
"I'm too tired to argue with you, Ali." She pressed her fingers to her tired eyes for a moment, wishing they'd stop burning. "Just tell me what you want."
You,
an inner voice whispered, but he ignored it. He could not, would not voice such a preposterous statement.
She looked exhausted, he realized, feeling his anger soften. As exhausted as he felt. There were dark shadows of fatigue under her eyes, which, this morning, looked oddly swollen, as if she'd been crying.
He felt an enormous flicker of guilt, and wondered if he'd been the cause of those tears.
At the moment, he wanted only to reach for her, to enfold her in his arms, to inhale her sweet scent, to feel her womanly curves pressed against him, to let his lips brush hers, to feel her heart beat next to his.
To comfort her, he told himself. Merely to comfort her.
He straightened, slipping his hands in his pockets, fearing he'd reach for her if he didn't. Right now he wanted to apologize and explain his comments last night.
But he knew he could not. He would never be able to admit to her that he, Sheik Ali El-Etra
feared
falling in love. For a man to admit he feared something was to admit he was a coward. It was totally out of the realm of anything he'd ever learned in his life. Men did not admit fear. Ever. Especially a man in his position.
"What do I want, Faith?" He smiled slowly. "I want what I contracted for—your services. Yours, not someone else's."
"You can't have me." She feared she hadn't the defenses to deflect his charm, his appeal, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself again.
His eyes darkened. "That is the second time you have told me that I cannot have you, and I will tell you again, you are wrong, Faith. Very wrong. And on this, I suggest you don't push me, because I will push back. Hard."
"What are you talking about?"
He glanced at his watch. "If you are not in my offices at work on my system by noon today, I will instruct my attorneys to file a breach of contract suit against you and your firm. I will also instruct them to file an immediate injunction preventing you from personally working anywhere else until you have completed the work you were contracted for at El-Etra Investments."
Shock nearly stole her breath and she gripped the edge of her desk until her knuckles whitened.
"You can't be serious!" Just the thought of a lawsuit made her feel faint. If word got out that she'd been sued for breach of contract by a client, especially a client of Ali's magnitude, she'd lose all credibility in the business community.
"Ali," she whispered, her face pale, "you can't honestly be serious about this." Not even he would stoop so low.
Would he?
One dark brow arched. "Do you really want to test how serious I am, Faith?" Ali glanced at his watch again. "Noon, Faith. Be there. Or be prepared for the consequences."
* * *
It was almost five in the afternoon before Ali could get free to go down to the systems room to see Faith. He knew she'd returned to his offices, exactly five minutes before noon, because Kadid had informed him immediately.
Aware that something had happened between them, Kadid had discreetly been keeping an eye on Faith all afternoon, then reporting to Ali her progress and her mood.
From all accounts, Ali decided, she was probably about ready to kill him.
He almost smiled. She was the most cantankerous, obstinate, independent woman he'd ever met, with a stubborn streak as wide as his.
He adored her.
But she was not going to be pleased when she saw him or heard his news.
Sighing deeply, Ali stood in the doorway, listening to the hum of machines, watching her hunched over a keyboard, much the same way he had the first day he'd come down here.
He wanted to go to her, stroke a hand down her hair, rub the tension from her shoulders. He resisted, knowing he'd probably get a black eye for his efforts.
"Faith." He walked into the room, saying her name so he wouldn't startle her.
"I'm here, I'm working as we contractually agreed." Her voice was cool and impersonal. She continued with what she was doing, not even sparing him a glance. "However, there is nothing in our contract that states I have to see you or speak to you."
"You are absolutely correct," he said, coming around the desk to stand in front of her so he could see her. She looked even more weary than she had this morning. "You do not have to see me or speak to me." She didn't acknowledge him or glance at him. "But I do think you're being a bit childish and churlish."
His words caused her temper to simmer. "I tend to get a bit churlish when someone threatens me."
"And is that what I did, Faith, threaten you?"
"Strong-arm me is more like it." She had to concentrate, so she concentrated on putting her anger into the machine she was working on.
"I'm sorry you feel that way." Absently, Ali glanced at her, noted her shoulders had tensed even further. "Do you hate working here so much, Faith?" His voice was whisper-soft, sending a shiver over her, making her more annoyed with herself than ever.
She had to take a deep breath and bite her tongue so she wouldn't say something perfectly vile and vicious, even if he did deserve it.
"I hate that you've used me to deceive your parents." Now she looked up at him so he could see the anger radiating in her eyes. He saw something else as well—pain. He wasn't certain he could bear knowing that he was the one who had caused that pain.
"I hate the fact that you threatened and bullied me to get your own way. I hate the fact that you're an arrogant, impossible snob who thinks the world owes him something because of who he is." She had to take a deep breath because her voice was shaking and she didn't want him to know how close to tears she was. "And I especially hate the fact that you think women are disposable. Here solely for your use and your pleasure, to be discarded when you're through with them."
"Is that what you truly think of me, Faith?" he asked quietly, truly appalled at her opinion of him. He stood up, came closer. "Is that what you think I did to you? Used you, then discarded you?"
She wasn't going to cry. "You used me to deceive your parents."
"This is sadly true, but I thought perhaps you understood my reasoning. My intention was not cruelty, but love. I thought you understood that." When she didn't answer, he went on. "Do you really hate being here and working for me so much?"
"I don't want to be here," she said simply, unwilling to explain. Let him think what he wanted.
"What if I offered to make a deal with you? Give you an out so you would not have to come back here ever again. You could let your young man, Peter, come back if you so liked." He was taking a chance, and a big one, but at this point he had nothing to lose.
Her heart filled with a mixture of hope and dread. Hope that this misery would end, that she didn't have to see him every day and be reminded that she was not the kind of woman he could love.
Dread that if she wasn't here she might not ever see him again. And she didn't know if she could bear it.
But wasn't that what she wanted?
"I don't make deals with the devil."
He laughed. "You signed a contract with one, if I'm the devil you are referring to. I think it is a bit late to get moralistic now."
She considered for a moment, too tempted not to find out what he was proposing. "What kind of deal are you talking about?" she asked suspiciously.
He was quiet for a moment. "I just spoke to my mother. They were so impressed with you, they've decided to extend their visit for a few days. They've invited us to spend the weekend with them at their home in Palm Springs. We would leave late tomorrow afternoon."
"Are you crazy?" She shot to her feet. "How dare you even suggest such a thing." Totally enraged, she was shaking. "It's out of the question. I'm not play-acting or pretending to be your doting, obedient wife-to-be, nor am I going along with a continued deception of your parents. It's out of the question."
"Faith." He took a step closer, and she was grateful the desk separated them. "Please hear me out. This is obviously important to me. You know how I feel about my parents. And I am very, very grateful to you for the part you played in easing their mind and bringing them some happiness."
"You're not going to soften me by playing on my sympathies," she stated, crossing her arms across her chest.
But Ali could see she was weakening, and a pinch of hope flared.
"I understand that perhaps I have done things…said things that maybe you have not understood or approved of, things that, at times, seemed less than honorable, but I hope you will know and believe, that I am a man of honor, of integrity, and I would never knowingly hurt someone, especially my parents."